


frail and foolish creatures

by jan



Category: Un-Go
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Consent Issues, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jan/pseuds/jan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In which Shinjuurou's sofa gets a lot of screentime. Includes references to plot points mentioned in episode 11 and shown in the UN-GO movie.</p><p>Title from Sakaguchi Ango's "On Decadence":<br/></p><div class="center">人間は可憐であり脆弱であり、それ故愚かなものであるが、堕ちぬくためには弱すぎる。<br/>Humans are delicate and frail, and foolish creatures, but they are too weak to fall all the way.</div>
    </blockquote>





	frail and foolish creatures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychomachia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/gifts).



> In which Shinjuurou's sofa gets a lot of screentime. Includes references to plot points mentioned in episode 11 and shown in the UN-GO movie.
> 
> Title from Sakaguchi Ango's "On Decadence":  
> 
> 
> 人間は可憐であり脆弱であり、それ故愚かなものであるが、堕ちぬくためには弱すぎる。  
> Humans are delicate and frail, and foolish creatures, but they are too weak to fall all the way.

 

He wakes to a warm body curled against him.

No -- practically on top of him. Not in itself an unprecedented occurrence, but Shinjuurou hasn't been with a woman for months, and Inga never stays around after she's done with him. At least not in _that_ form. Which means:

"Inga," he sighs, not bothering to open his eyes. "It's too hot for this."

The boy (not just a boy, Shinjuurou reminds himself) snuggles closer, in a manner slightly too reminiscent of someone else. "But you're so comfortable, Shin-juu-rou."

He has an arm around Shinjuurou's waist and a knee between Shinjuurou's legs and this is all a bit too much to deal with, this early in the morning. But negotiation is unlikely to succeed, so he settles for slipping a hand into the space between them and shoving Inga firmly off the sofa.

"Ow!" And then, all too quickly, there's a soft panda mitt batting impatiently against his face. "Shinjuurou, you're so _mean_. Wake up! Hey, Kazamori, don't you think he's mean?"

Shinjuurou catches the paw in one hand, opens his eyes. The little robotic doll is seated solemnly on the coffee table, regarding them both with its plastic button gaze. Shinjuurou wonders, not for the first time, how the RAI even perceives anything while in that body.

"Shinjuurou-sama is quite given to violence," it offers, with a shrug of its plush shoulders.

Inga whirls back round, eyes bright. "See? See? Kazamori thinks so too--"

Shinjuurou drops the paw and rolls over to face the back of the sofa, shutting out the triumphant crowing. It's no use: soon a slim arm slips under his, snakes around his body. Free of the panda glove, Inga's fingers curl around a handful of Shinjuurou's shirt.

"You can't get rid of me so easily, Shin-juu-rou."

Shinjuurou knows.

He gives up, like he always does. As he drifts back into sleep, Inga's clinging presence is almost comforting.

 

* * *

 

The reporter takes a step backwards, crumples into a defeated heap onto the carpet. Inga's already stepping past him, drawing the back of one hand across her lips, her eyes fixed firmly on Shinjuurou. Displeased.

"Is that it? How unsatisfying."

It's one of those dry spells: weeks dealing with nothing more pressing than the complaints of neighbours or the small worries of private citizens. Or, today, a request to deal with a reporter who has a penchant for straying onto the wrong side of the law. These cases pay the bills, yes, but they do nothing to help with the most important thing that Shinjuurou owes.

Inga's fingers are talons against the side of his neck, his cheek. "Let me eat him, Shinjuurou."

Ironically, it would be easier to resolve this if the authorities were here. But Koyama is absent again today. The lies have been too weak, the hidden truths too petty to warrant Kaishou Rinroku's direct attention -- or to slake Inga's hunger.

"You said you wouldn't," he reminds her.

"You said you'd keep me fed."

Inga's nails press against his skin, just shy of breaking the surface. He reaches up in an attempt to pull her hand away, already knowing he will fail. "I'm trying--"

"He's leaving," Kazamori observes.

Inga's grip relaxes. She moves back, no longer filling his field of vision. Shinjuurou looks past her to see the reporter stumbling off as though half-asleep, or freshly woken. For an awful moment he wonders if he will have to physically restrain Inga from pursuing the man, or at least attempt to; he has no delusions about his possible success there, either.

But then he blinks and Inga's in his less threatening form again, complaining to the small panda doll in his hands.

Later, as they're walking home after lunch, Inga makes a half-hearted swipe at the empty air. "I'm still hungry, Shinjuurou."

There's no edge to Inga's plaintive whine; there doesn't have to be.

 

* * *

 

RAI bodies are set to blink at intervals just shy of regular, for that extra shade of verisimilitude, so Shinjuurou can't say exactly what unnerves him about the way Kazamori sometimes stares at him. It's not like Inga's knowing smugness, the look which says that Shinjuurou is an open book even if Inga didn't have the power to read anyone. Perhaps what disturbs him is not the sense that Kazamori understands him, but that Kazamori is trying.

But just looking at Kazamori can be unsettling enough, at times. Is it the slightly off aura which constantly reminds one that Kazamori is not the young girl whose appearance it wears, or the ease with which one can slip into believing that illusion? Even now, Kazamori's mere presence at the laptop throws up too many questions. What does a RAI even surf for? Why use a clumsy robotic body to access a sea of information in which one could swim unfettered? Is it a pre-programmed sense of style that dictates Kazamori's fashion choices, or some semblance of independent decision?

Shinjuurou doesn't pursue that last thought too far. There are obvious other questions that follow it, and if he's going to be honest with himself, he really doesn't want to think about all the things Komamori might have done to that RAI body. Done with. Whatever.

"Thinking about someone else?"

Inga's breath is warm against his ear, like the soft weight of her body against his, pushing him down. He lets her, sinking into the sofa with a tired sense of familiarity. _Inga_ , karma; he supposes he deserves this, all of this, whatever this is. There's a debt he owes to the world, and to some people who were once in it, and he pays it a day at a time.

"Ah. You're thinking of her again," Inga says. Shinjuurou feels a brief stab of relief: she's amused, not angry. "After I went to the trouble of modifying this form, too. But if you'd like some help, I could always change back..."

"Don't," Shinjuurou says. A heartbeat later: "Please."

Inga smiles. Even her mercy looks cruel.

He closes his eyes as she begins to unfasten his trousers. "Kazamori's here."

"Kazamori can watch," Inga says, not pausing. "It might be instructive."

When Shinjuurou glances over at the RAI body, much later, there's nothing animating its form. He imagines Kazamori roaming the vast worlds of the internet, free of its prison of synthetic flesh, and wonders when it chose to leave.

 

* * *

 

He's half-awake in the pre-dawn darkness when a soft, warm weight settles against his body.

"Inga," he says, letting annoyance creep into his voice. "I told you..."

But then there's a small hand tracing a path down from the curve of his hipbone, lower-- Shinjuurou's eyes snap open.

Kazamori's staring back at him.

"Kazamori," Shinjuurou says, voice weak with surprise. He isn't sure if he should feel relieved. The RAI's hand has stilled in an awkward location, but there are other things to worry about: he tries to glance past Kazamori, scanning the room for Inga's form.

"He's asleep," Kazamori offers.

"I'm worried about _her_ ," Shinjuurou says. "As for you, I said that you didn't owe me anything. Why--"

His breath hitches. Kazamori's fingers are deft, sure, entirely too practiced, their movements gentle yet deliberate in a way that Shinjuurou's forgotten. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. Something in him wants to seek this false comfort, aches to respond to the touch as naturally as his flesh does.

He sits up instead and pushes Kazamori off him.

The RAI settles back, legs folding neatly at the knee; tilts its head to one side in a parody of a young girl's curiosity. "Was that not welcome?"

"It wasn't," Shinjuurou says, too tired to snap. "It'll never be. Especially not in that body."

"I see."

Shinjuurou doubts that. But it's not worth explaining, so he just says: "Get off my legs."

Kazamori steps delicately off the sofa and retreats to the empty armchair. In the other lies Inga, mercifully asleep. Shinjuurou watches as the RAI settles its body into the chair, the movement smooth and precise. Something switches off behind its eyes.

The panda doll on the coffee table sits up.

"Not in that body either," Shinjuurou says, for good measure.

The plush toy's features are not made to frown, but Kazamori is making an impressive effort. "I did not intend to try."

"Good."

He settles back down. Vague, half-formed thoughts are threatening to take shape: something about the ludicrous nature of this existence, the strange arrangements his life is coming to be built around. A slow descent and a losing bargain. And there are questions he could ask himself, if he had Inga's ability to strip away all pretence and self-delusion; there are truths in here, somewhere, darting in and out of reach like Inga's phantom butterflies.

But none of this is worth pinning down. Shinjuurou closes his eyes and waits for the dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> Inga's name, 因果, is the Japanese translation of 'hetu-phala', the Buddhist concept of causality that is related to (but distinct from) the concept of karma. It can also mean 'cause and effect' more generally, but given the other religious references in the show, it's pretty clear that the writers intended this one as well.


End file.
